The Rhyme Queen, feigning ignorance to the world's cries to stop, only but strikes again!
Cuckoo Bird and I both wished to head to New York
Not forever,
Not for long,
But just until we heard, again, the sound of the Billabong.
For her, shifts between Paris and New York,
For me, analytics, Blahniks and Pérignon.
For us, Christmas, SoHo's, four seasons,
Central Park, Neal Caffrey and the list goes on.
Waited and waited, till our angst was pranked,
And Cuckoo got her quick fix and chose a smart phone instead.
Betrayed, I am now in seclusion,
As Cuckoo, mails, chats and howls with her New York illusion.
Mar 1, 2012
Feb 24, 2012
The Perverse Pitcher Plant
I am just a tyro botanist! My knowledge of botany is limited to the size of my next-door neighbour's pea-sized brain. I am willing to learn considering my recent tryst with the subject!
Lulu and I were driving through the streets of our city, through peak-traffic, to reach our office. As is common among us, we resorted to banter, chatter and the like. Moments of driving insanity led to one strange thought: how does the pitcher plant poop? Lulu had not known that there were carnivorous plants. It was her strongest belief, for the longest time (until then of course), that such strange plants belonged to the world of Narnias and Rings. After having cleared her delusions,
which took less than 10 seconds (This girl trusts everything I say. I was tempted to pull a fast one but the better me prevailed over the nuttier me.), she proceeded to badger me with 21 questions. Her first question, under different circumstances, would have made me laugh all the way to an asylum. She asked if such trees grew in our streets and in our city.Yes, they did and they're going to devour us all! A skeptical look from her later, she popped the second question that had me gobsmacked! What happens to the undigested remains inside the plant? This called for an expert! We decided to put this question forth to.... Ms. Pitcher-Botanist!
Ms. PB, was stumped. She had been fighting to sustain the climate and had to brush up her botanical roots again. Soon, we were to receive a pdf file. The answers were there! Now, maybe because I am not a science student, maybe because I see things for what they truly are, maybe because I call a spade as such or maybe because everything has a perverse connotation, I did not find the answers I was looking for in the pdf file.
Mercifully, it was lunch time and the office had only a few senior people strewn in. I called Ms. PB and bellowed in a stentorian voice! If truth be told, it happens when one is filled with mirth. When you cannot stifle your HOO-HOOO-HOOs, well, your decibel levels are bound to increase!!
I read the document, random lines, here and there! My, what perverse meanings they all held!
Sample these,
"we demonstrate that the two factors preventing insect attachment to the peristome, i.e., water lubrication and anisotropic surface topography, are effective against different attachment structures of the insect tarsus."
"We recorded the ants’ behavior on the pitcher (i) with an untreated (dry) peristome, (ii) after wetting the peristome surface using an atomizer, (iii) after drying it with dust-free tissue, and (iv) after rewetting it again."
"In one particularly dramatic case, a P. beccarii worker fell back into the fluid 48 times before it finally managed to escape from the pitcher."
"The analysis of friction forces of O. smaragdina ants on the peristome surprisingly revealed that surface anisotropy has hardly any effect on friction forces of the adhesive pads. However, when only claws were present, friction forces were smaller toward the inside of the pitcher but larger toward the outside,..."
Still wondering if we are discussing ants in the pitcher?
And the biggest joke of all? The name of this glorious website that housed the secrets of the Pitcher Plant was called - PNAS!
You think I kid you? Look it up! It is not my intention to vilify the pitcher plant but I am starting to believe it may as well be a strange plant indeed!
Source: http://www.pnas.org/content/101/39/14138.full.pdf
Lulu and Ms. PB, all for a good laugh, eh? ;)
Lulu and I were driving through the streets of our city, through peak-traffic, to reach our office. As is common among us, we resorted to banter, chatter and the like. Moments of driving insanity led to one strange thought: how does the pitcher plant poop? Lulu had not known that there were carnivorous plants. It was her strongest belief, for the longest time (until then of course), that such strange plants belonged to the world of Narnias and Rings. After having cleared her delusions,
which took less than 10 seconds (This girl trusts everything I say. I was tempted to pull a fast one but the better me prevailed over the nuttier me.), she proceeded to badger me with 21 questions. Her first question, under different circumstances, would have made me laugh all the way to an asylum. She asked if such trees grew in our streets and in our city.Yes, they did and they're going to devour us all! A skeptical look from her later, she popped the second question that had me gobsmacked! What happens to the undigested remains inside the plant? This called for an expert! We decided to put this question forth to.... Ms. Pitcher-Botanist! Ms. PB, was stumped. She had been fighting to sustain the climate and had to brush up her botanical roots again. Soon, we were to receive a pdf file. The answers were there! Now, maybe because I am not a science student, maybe because I see things for what they truly are, maybe because I call a spade as such or maybe because everything has a perverse connotation, I did not find the answers I was looking for in the pdf file.
Mercifully, it was lunch time and the office had only a few senior people strewn in. I called Ms. PB and bellowed in a stentorian voice! If truth be told, it happens when one is filled with mirth. When you cannot stifle your HOO-HOOO-HOOs, well, your decibel levels are bound to increase!!
I read the document, random lines, here and there! My, what perverse meanings they all held!
Sample these,
"we demonstrate that the two factors preventing insect attachment to the peristome, i.e., water lubrication and anisotropic surface topography, are effective against different attachment structures of the insect tarsus."
"We recorded the ants’ behavior on the pitcher (i) with an untreated (dry) peristome, (ii) after wetting the peristome surface using an atomizer, (iii) after drying it with dust-free tissue, and (iv) after rewetting it again."
"In one particularly dramatic case, a P. beccarii worker fell back into the fluid 48 times before it finally managed to escape from the pitcher."
"The analysis of friction forces of O. smaragdina ants on the peristome surprisingly revealed that surface anisotropy has hardly any effect on friction forces of the adhesive pads. However, when only claws were present, friction forces were smaller toward the inside of the pitcher but larger toward the outside,..."
Still wondering if we are discussing ants in the pitcher?
And the biggest joke of all? The name of this glorious website that housed the secrets of the Pitcher Plant was called - PNAS!
You think I kid you? Look it up! It is not my intention to vilify the pitcher plant but I am starting to believe it may as well be a strange plant indeed!
Source: http://www.pnas.org/content/101/39/14138.full.pdf
Lulu and Ms. PB, all for a good laugh, eh? ;)
Dec 25, 2011
Merry Christmas!
This year, Christmas was perfect! We bought a small tree and kept adding decorations until the very last hour! A mini-party for three, a lot of plum cake, chocolates, carols and perfect presents: what more could one ask for!
Here's wishing you all a very Merry Christmas 2011!
Here's wishing you all a very Merry Christmas 2011!
Dec 10, 2011
All At Once!
My weekend started on Thursday morning!
The agenda was simple. 3 hours training and the remaining time? Have fun! What seemed like a blessing was under a cloak of disguise that I unintentionally, as always, created.
Here you go - the comedy of errors - another reason why Prosaic is still alive. Thanks to my insatiable need to either spot blithering idiots or get my high-heeled foot in my mouth.
1) I forgot to pack...
Recall my post on The Nightmare of Packing? The nightmare's constant attempts to bog me down succeeded and soon conjoined with reality. This was the first time that I did not make my travel list!!
I get off the aeroplane, switched on my mobile phone and found a text message from my sister of the list of things I had forgotten to pack: contact lens solution and case, shampoo, hair gel, oils etc. Considering I travel a great deal, forgetting anything was a first for me.
The dress code for the 3 hours of training alone was business casuals. The end of the year seems to be a time for redemption and introspection. Maybe, just maybe, I should stop judging people about their work attire? All the times I heavily frowned upon and 'tsk-tsk-ed' people for wearing jeans in the name of business casuals! Oh, the pain! I recalled where my brown trousers I meant to pack were. They were lying in my cupboard and not in my suitcase where they should have been! Thanks to Shawn and Ms. Deeds comforting words, I quietly thanked God that I atleast had a pair of black jeans with me. Skinny but completely black. The sad part? The shirt I had packed was black. The happy part? The shirt had a short sleeves. Anyone who thinks it does not make a difference, can you sense my frowning?
2) The two cusses
This was terrifying humiliating. We were allocated rooms on twin-sharing basis and alloted a room-mate from another location. We were in my room talking and laughing our butts off. Ms. Conversation Killer - my room-mate, then walked in talking loudly on the phone. The gist of the conversation seemed to be that she was trying to get one room for herself as there was an odd number of people. A shallow hello and fake smile later, she walked out. Out of ear-shot and I commenced shooting my mouth off! What a stuck-up b**ch she was! I bet she's going to get another room for herself. That would work out well in our favour as we'd have the entire room to ourselves for the after-party! The bathroom door went click and Ms. CK walked out - she never left the room after all.
We were at the lobby of the hotel standing around and talking. A certain lady mentioned in passing that Mr. A resembled Mr. B. Appalled by the comparison, I spontaneously responded with a 'YUCK' in my usual decibel levels. My voice resonated across the hall with a sound which I suspect rhymed with that darn F word.
However, the madness in my brain settled. We had fun - dancing, wine, games, meeting new people, shopping! Ms. CK even warmed up - as much as she could humanly get. I managed the shampoo and contact lens incident, the black jeans and shirt were not as a big a tragedy as I had perceived and Mr. A does resemble Mr. B - yuck, indeed!
However, I could not understand why or even how any of these this could have taken place. I am a rational and sane person who is careful! I knew the answer much later - PMS! Doesn't that always explain everything?
If anyone thinks I will change my notions about room sharing (recall my Mumbai-related posts?) or on work attire, heck, you must be experiencing PMS!
The agenda was simple. 3 hours training and the remaining time? Have fun! What seemed like a blessing was under a cloak of disguise that I unintentionally, as always, created.
Here you go - the comedy of errors - another reason why Prosaic is still alive. Thanks to my insatiable need to either spot blithering idiots or get my high-heeled foot in my mouth.
1) I forgot to pack...
Recall my post on The Nightmare of Packing? The nightmare's constant attempts to bog me down succeeded and soon conjoined with reality. This was the first time that I did not make my travel list!!
I get off the aeroplane, switched on my mobile phone and found a text message from my sister of the list of things I had forgotten to pack: contact lens solution and case, shampoo, hair gel, oils etc. Considering I travel a great deal, forgetting anything was a first for me.
The dress code for the 3 hours of training alone was business casuals. The end of the year seems to be a time for redemption and introspection. Maybe, just maybe, I should stop judging people about their work attire? All the times I heavily frowned upon and 'tsk-tsk-ed' people for wearing jeans in the name of business casuals! Oh, the pain! I recalled where my brown trousers I meant to pack were. They were lying in my cupboard and not in my suitcase where they should have been! Thanks to Shawn and Ms. Deeds comforting words, I quietly thanked God that I atleast had a pair of black jeans with me. Skinny but completely black. The sad part? The shirt I had packed was black. The happy part? The shirt had a short sleeves. Anyone who thinks it does not make a difference, can you sense my frowning?
2) The two cusses
This was terrifying humiliating. We were allocated rooms on twin-sharing basis and alloted a room-mate from another location. We were in my room talking and laughing our butts off. Ms. Conversation Killer - my room-mate, then walked in talking loudly on the phone. The gist of the conversation seemed to be that she was trying to get one room for herself as there was an odd number of people. A shallow hello and fake smile later, she walked out. Out of ear-shot and I commenced shooting my mouth off! What a stuck-up b**ch she was! I bet she's going to get another room for herself. That would work out well in our favour as we'd have the entire room to ourselves for the after-party! The bathroom door went click and Ms. CK walked out - she never left the room after all.
We were at the lobby of the hotel standing around and talking. A certain lady mentioned in passing that Mr. A resembled Mr. B. Appalled by the comparison, I spontaneously responded with a 'YUCK' in my usual decibel levels. My voice resonated across the hall with a sound which I suspect rhymed with that darn F word.
However, the madness in my brain settled. We had fun - dancing, wine, games, meeting new people, shopping! Ms. CK even warmed up - as much as she could humanly get. I managed the shampoo and contact lens incident, the black jeans and shirt were not as a big a tragedy as I had perceived and Mr. A does resemble Mr. B - yuck, indeed!
However, I could not understand why or even how any of these this could have taken place. I am a rational and sane person who is careful! I knew the answer much later - PMS! Doesn't that always explain everything?
If anyone thinks I will change my notions about room sharing (recall my Mumbai-related posts?) or on work attire, heck, you must be experiencing PMS!
Dec 5, 2011
Mis-Deeds!
Every man by now probably knows that he should not extend his hand out for a handshake unless the lady willingly puts out hers. I am referring to workplace decorum here! Ms. Deeds, who guffaws ruthlessly at people who leave their manners at home and makes unforgiving remarks about such folks, was faced with humiliation beyond repair!
As she dug into her handbag, frantically searching for her business card, a certain not-so gentle-gentleman stood with his hands outstretched. Realising a tad too late, that no hand was going to meet his, he remarked that he expected a handshake as Ms. Deeds had offered first. Ms. Deeds, shocked and thrown off-guard, stared right ahead and blurted out that she was only searching for her cards!
As a consolation prize, I grabbed the man's hand and shook it firmly!! If that's what you want, well, you got it, Mister!
As she dug into her handbag, frantically searching for her business card, a certain not-so gentle-gentleman stood with his hands outstretched. Realising a tad too late, that no hand was going to meet his, he remarked that he expected a handshake as Ms. Deeds had offered first. Ms. Deeds, shocked and thrown off-guard, stared right ahead and blurted out that she was only searching for her cards!
As a consolation prize, I grabbed the man's hand and shook it firmly!! If that's what you want, well, you got it, Mister!
Dec 3, 2011
Mumbai and Me - Part IV (The Ending)
Pink Underwear hanging on the clothes rack! Dinner accompaniments? What was on the menu? Who was on the menu?
Whose? Whose? Whose were the not-so-big pair of pink underwear, was the big question!
One might also be tempted to inquire whether the faculties of the person who placed them there were in order! I dare say, who are we to judge? The twentieth floor brings in a stronger gust of wind than the second floor!
Shawn's eyes and memory recalled only a blue pair! What? You sighted Victoria's Secret? Wait a minute! That's for us? What's THEIR secret called? Must be really well-guarded.
Blue pair of underwear. Does everyone do that? Pull down their pants and lay flat as if letting in the air would increase the fluid retention capacity of one's stomach? I may not be a product of the sciences but I was certain I knew that much! Neither was he from the sciences! Or Shawn, for that matter.
Less strange things have happened in the past!
Anyway, the weekend's result was a bright and chirpy bird on Monday morning: ME. Far from what Shawn was, who barely woke up!
Let's digress for a minute here. Can you tell two China men or women apart? Ones you are not familiar with? Mel Gibson on The Tonight Show asked Jay Leno if the Chinese thought the rest of the world resembled one another! Everyone guffawed! Until that Monday morning, I knew not the answer to that question.
No China men were involved in the creation of this story! So whilst I wilted the morning away with my head buried in the newspaper, I heard someone bellow a Hi!
Recall the Chinese confusion? I knew not whether this man greeting me was Mr. Hot Pants or not! All because they were both white-skinned? Universe, I hear you! I hear you! This was the same predicament that Mr. Hot Pants probably was in when he mistook me for Shawn!
However, I had better racial etiquette than Mr. Hot Pants - in comparison! Initially, I battled on whether or not to ask about his dehydrated stomach. I chose the safest alternative - to play the perfect snobbish girl. I coldly responded with a very formal 'Hello'.
Like I've said, less strange things have happened in the past! The man did not chose to disengage himself from further conversation! Instead? An introduction. We haven't met! I am Mr. Smart Pants. Holy everything! I stepped out of the freeze box and introduced myself. As if to make peace with the Universe and to repair the terrible racism accusations I had been rampantly hurling around, I asked him - in all innocence - was he from our Delhi office? I thought it was the only way to purge my sin! To feign blindness to whatever country he belonged to! With a perfectly normal no and after explaining which part of this massive globe he belonged to, I was faced with the same question - where was I from?
Timbuktu! Oh wait, will people take offence to that as well? Fine, I am from Jupiter then. *Gleep*
And the great ending to this tale? On the last day, the four of us had breakfast together, laughing and talking about the colour of eggs, chicken-eggs and duck-eggs, using your right hand to eat as opposed to your left while in India, of work, of holidays, of sushi, of vegetarian sushi - sushi made by Mr. Hot Pants' wife. Did someone say wife? I then remembered, I had a flight to catch. I was late. Reality was waiting for me to land.
The Mystery of the Pink Underwear? We do not divulge confidential information.
Whose? Whose? Whose were the not-so-big pair of pink underwear, was the big question!
One might also be tempted to inquire whether the faculties of the person who placed them there were in order! I dare say, who are we to judge? The twentieth floor brings in a stronger gust of wind than the second floor!
Shawn's eyes and memory recalled only a blue pair! What? You sighted Victoria's Secret? Wait a minute! That's for us? What's THEIR secret called? Must be really well-guarded.
Blue pair of underwear. Does everyone do that? Pull down their pants and lay flat as if letting in the air would increase the fluid retention capacity of one's stomach? I may not be a product of the sciences but I was certain I knew that much! Neither was he from the sciences! Or Shawn, for that matter.
Less strange things have happened in the past!
Anyway, the weekend's result was a bright and chirpy bird on Monday morning: ME. Far from what Shawn was, who barely woke up!
Let's digress for a minute here. Can you tell two China men or women apart? Ones you are not familiar with? Mel Gibson on The Tonight Show asked Jay Leno if the Chinese thought the rest of the world resembled one another! Everyone guffawed! Until that Monday morning, I knew not the answer to that question.
No China men were involved in the creation of this story! So whilst I wilted the morning away with my head buried in the newspaper, I heard someone bellow a Hi!
Recall the Chinese confusion? I knew not whether this man greeting me was Mr. Hot Pants or not! All because they were both white-skinned? Universe, I hear you! I hear you! This was the same predicament that Mr. Hot Pants probably was in when he mistook me for Shawn!
However, I had better racial etiquette than Mr. Hot Pants - in comparison! Initially, I battled on whether or not to ask about his dehydrated stomach. I chose the safest alternative - to play the perfect snobbish girl. I coldly responded with a very formal 'Hello'.
Like I've said, less strange things have happened in the past! The man did not chose to disengage himself from further conversation! Instead? An introduction. We haven't met! I am Mr. Smart Pants. Holy everything! I stepped out of the freeze box and introduced myself. As if to make peace with the Universe and to repair the terrible racism accusations I had been rampantly hurling around, I asked him - in all innocence - was he from our Delhi office? I thought it was the only way to purge my sin! To feign blindness to whatever country he belonged to! With a perfectly normal no and after explaining which part of this massive globe he belonged to, I was faced with the same question - where was I from?
Timbuktu! Oh wait, will people take offence to that as well? Fine, I am from Jupiter then. *Gleep*
And the great ending to this tale? On the last day, the four of us had breakfast together, laughing and talking about the colour of eggs, chicken-eggs and duck-eggs, using your right hand to eat as opposed to your left while in India, of work, of holidays, of sushi, of vegetarian sushi - sushi made by Mr. Hot Pants' wife. Did someone say wife? I then remembered, I had a flight to catch. I was late. Reality was waiting for me to land.
The Mystery of the Pink Underwear? We do not divulge confidential information.
Nov 17, 2011
Mumbai and Me - Part III (Shopping: street-wise and high-street!)
Let's back up a bit. Dinner was only at the end of the day after all!
That morning, we got ready and set to hit the streets of Mumbai! After a lazy session of breakfast, morning television and an early after-noon shower, we left the guest house and headed towards Fort.
Fort Area is very close to Nariman Point - one of the oldest and most popular finance hubs within this great city! Fort Area holds all of what Mumbai's financial sector needs: newspaper and magazine stands that sell every business periodical there is, vada pav stalls, endless lines of stationery stores, erotica....what?? So here's how our story goes.
We stopped at Coffee Day - very uncharacteristic - for a quick lunch. The saving grace was that we opted for the 'local pick' in the menu. The sweet waiter there guided us (rather misguided - or maybe we got the directions messed up..again!) to where the shopping zone was.
Now Nariman Point apparently closes on Saturday noon. The streets were not buzzing with activity and it was a strange sight! Walking around in the streets of Mumbai which were not abuzz with activity was faintly unfamiliar to my senses. We walked past rows of stationery stores until we were guided to the "shopping centre" by one of the locals.
Were we in for a surprise!
Just as we entered a certain street, I saw a lot of DVDs/CDs being sold by hawkers. Excitedly, Shawn and I walked up! We wanted to catch a movie in the guest house after dinner and thought we might buy a copy! I walked upto one of the stalls and looked around. My eyes popped out, my stomach caved and my legs took me away like the wind. For the movies sold there were pornography - in Hindi, at that. Go figure! To each man, his own fantasy!
Wary of CDs/DVDs sold around the area, we walked around a bit more. After splurging on some nonsensical street shopping, my eyes fell upon another stall where some strange stationery items were being sold! I saw large silver and gold pens and turned away in distraction. Shawn walked towards the same stall wondering what curious items were being sold! I followed her. No sooner had I done that, my eyes chanced upon items labelled 'vibrator'. Call me a prude! I do not care! I grabbed Shawn and dragged her! The poor girl was still trying to figure out what the stall had to offer!
In all of Mumbai's madness, Nariman Point houses erotica for businessmen! Not to forget the women as well! This city never ceases to surprise me!
We headed to Fashion Street - much to my chagrin. Hoards of people were thronging the area and we left quickly! Ofcourse Shawn had to stop at one of the stores and ramble away in the same manner as the shop-owners there! "Kurta, Madam! Small one, big one, embroidered one, sleeveless, for your mother, sister.." - all in one breath!
We got back to the guest house, stuffed our hearts and stomachs content with hot pakodas (chilli, potato and onion!), hit the shower and went to High Street Phoenix Mall. God paved the way to all stores with the best deals! How lucky we were!
We got back to the guest house, starving! And then commenced the dinner.
That morning, we got ready and set to hit the streets of Mumbai! After a lazy session of breakfast, morning television and an early after-noon shower, we left the guest house and headed towards Fort.
Fort Area is very close to Nariman Point - one of the oldest and most popular finance hubs within this great city! Fort Area holds all of what Mumbai's financial sector needs: newspaper and magazine stands that sell every business periodical there is, vada pav stalls, endless lines of stationery stores, erotica....what?? So here's how our story goes.
We stopped at Coffee Day - very uncharacteristic - for a quick lunch. The saving grace was that we opted for the 'local pick' in the menu. The sweet waiter there guided us (rather misguided - or maybe we got the directions messed up..again!) to where the shopping zone was.
Now Nariman Point apparently closes on Saturday noon. The streets were not buzzing with activity and it was a strange sight! Walking around in the streets of Mumbai which were not abuzz with activity was faintly unfamiliar to my senses. We walked past rows of stationery stores until we were guided to the "shopping centre" by one of the locals.
Were we in for a surprise!
Just as we entered a certain street, I saw a lot of DVDs/CDs being sold by hawkers. Excitedly, Shawn and I walked up! We wanted to catch a movie in the guest house after dinner and thought we might buy a copy! I walked upto one of the stalls and looked around. My eyes popped out, my stomach caved and my legs took me away like the wind. For the movies sold there were pornography - in Hindi, at that. Go figure! To each man, his own fantasy!
Wary of CDs/DVDs sold around the area, we walked around a bit more. After splurging on some nonsensical street shopping, my eyes fell upon another stall where some strange stationery items were being sold! I saw large silver and gold pens and turned away in distraction. Shawn walked towards the same stall wondering what curious items were being sold! I followed her. No sooner had I done that, my eyes chanced upon items labelled 'vibrator'. Call me a prude! I do not care! I grabbed Shawn and dragged her! The poor girl was still trying to figure out what the stall had to offer!
In all of Mumbai's madness, Nariman Point houses erotica for businessmen! Not to forget the women as well! This city never ceases to surprise me!
We headed to Fashion Street - much to my chagrin. Hoards of people were thronging the area and we left quickly! Ofcourse Shawn had to stop at one of the stores and ramble away in the same manner as the shop-owners there! "Kurta, Madam! Small one, big one, embroidered one, sleeveless, for your mother, sister.." - all in one breath!
We got back to the guest house, stuffed our hearts and stomachs content with hot pakodas (chilli, potato and onion!), hit the shower and went to High Street Phoenix Mall. God paved the way to all stores with the best deals! How lucky we were!
We got back to the guest house, starving! And then commenced the dinner.
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